Frogs and Fires
by EliSmith
Summary: Just a crazy one shot. REVIEW and tell me what you think.


**Here is a crazy one shot.**

Teresa Lisbon had met Patrick Jane before. Before, red john. When he had first started to consult for the CBI. Lisbon wasn't part of the red john case at the time, so she would only meet him by accident in the elevator, at the door or when he parked his car.

He was different back then.

His car wasn't the blue contraption. He drove a black porsche caymen. It impressed so many people.

His suits weren't three piece suits. He wore the normal tie and expensive italian suit.

His hair was combed and he was more of a gentleman. He didn't do anything stupid or risk his life. There was a single complaint in his file. No lawsuits, no charades.

But the major difference was his smile. His smile, showed true happiness. It wasn't a mask. It was the real deal. His eyes smiled with his mouth and he glowed of a happiness no one had seen. He had air of contempt and arrogance about him. There was no self pity or loathing. He didn't have that apologetic look in his eyes. The despiration wasn't there.

Patrick Jane wasn't sorry back then.

* * *

Teresa Lisbon, never saw that happy smile on Jane's face after Red John. The man that was once psychic extraordinaire, with the ideal life was shredded to pieces and was replaced by her blond pain in the ass consultant. Sure he was fun to be around and solved cases, but realy no one saw the true Jane. No one saw the sad, pathetic man that cried every night, for someone that would never return. Her team didn't see Jane.

He was empty. His emotion were all replaced by rage and vengeance. His smile was reduced to a symbol of sadness and insanity.

* * *

However, Teresa Lisbon did see that old joyous smile of Jane again. For a second, perhaps under the worst circumstances.

He stood over the body of a man brutaly stabbed, who had slowly bleed to death. His right arm was covered completely in blood and his firm hand held a kitchen knife, whose black handle had turned red. The white carpet beneath the man was filled with blood and there was violent lashed of blood on the walls. What was the sacriest was a hand mark, smired on the window as if the man was begging to get out. His body lay flat beneath the window with his head turned toward Jane. The man's eyes were still open, as if apologizing to Jane.

Jane stood there over his body and his head turned towards Lisbon. It was at that instant that she saw that old smile. His entire face lit up as he smiled, the widest happiest smile.

Lisbon frowned. This was a new Jane. It wasn't the happy family man, or the depressed detective. This was a predetor, who enjoyed to watch and rip the limbs of his pray apart. His mouth no longer smiled but happiness was still there. A crazy look of fullfilment in his eyes, that sickened Teresa.

Jane was now a criminal and she was the cop.

She cuffed him and sighed as she read him the Miranda.

* * *

**Lisbon's POW**

Weeks went by and Jane's trial went on. His lawyers tried to minimize the sentence. Which of course they succeeded, since he paid them more than the president gets paid in a year. Probably bribed the judge, the jury and probably the CBI. I didn't visit him. I was scared. No, I was mad. I don't know. I just know Patrick Jane was in Jail for two years and then got out on bail.

He was a hero, that saved California. No body locks up heros. Even if they have become deranged lunetics. He got a mental evaluation, probably charmed the psychologist just like Sophie. He didn't come to the bureau. He didn't say good bye. No one asked. He had gotten his revenge and left. He didn't care about the team. He was a psychic again. Posters and bill boards and shows.

A few years passed and we were still a team, except Jane of course. Van Pelt and Rigsby were getting married. They said they wanted him there, so we sent invitations. No hoping he would come.

He didn't.

But someone else did. A girl about 17 years of age. Blond hair just like Jane's. The icy blue eyes and the angelic smile. She came to the reseption, saying Patrick Jane had sent her and she wanted to talk to Agent Lisbon, Agent Cho, Agent Van Pelt and Agent Rigsby. So we sat in room to talk to her and what she had to say shocked us.

"I know you were expecting Patrick."She began, smooth and calm just like Jane,"But you have to understand, my father is a very busy man."

My father, did she just say, my father. I looked around and the rest of the team was just as shocked. The calculations didn't make sense. She was around 17 and Jane had killed Red John seven years ago. Red John had killed his family 13 years ago. This girl was 4 years old when Jane's family had died. She was born, when Jane's wife was still alive. What was happening?

She had seen our confusion and so she started to explain."My father was having affair before his wife died, which resulted in my birth. He took care of my mother and me for the first four years, but when his family died he disappeared. My mother died when Patrick was in jail and he was my sole gaurdian. So I appealed to the court for his release and convinced them, that he had gotten rid of a menace to society and for that he should not be punished. When he came out of jail, he got his life back together and I moved in with him." She took a deep breath and continued.

"Patrick has cancer and he is dying. He sent me here, to tell you that he was busy. That he was fine. But my father is dying." Water had welled up in her eyes."He was never much of a father to me. But I understand the reason he never came to see my mother and I after his wife had died, was because he was scared. He was scared that red john would find us and get rid of us as well."

She wiped her tears with a napkin that Cho had offered. "I couldn't lie to you. I wanted you to know, that he cares about all of you. He is happy and the marriage and is sorry. He can't thank you. So he has left you all a little something."

She handed the others an envelope and gave me a box. She walked out. Some how, none of us were sad that Jane was dying. We were mad that we wouldn't see him.

Cho opened his first and he suddenly smiled. "Oh wow, man. He left me a book store." He turned the letter around and there was a picture of a small book store.

Van Pelt opened hers and was shocked to find a picture of a football field, with her father's name in the middle. She read aloud what he had written, "Dear Grace, I know you wanted to remember him this way."

Rigsby's was even more interesting. It was a house by the beach.

_Wayne, _

_I hope you and Grace can enjoy this place as much as my wife and I had._

_Jane._

So much for loving his wife. Cheated on her and waited for her to die so he can go back to his new family.

"Boss, what did he get you?"

Mine was a box with a white ribbon on it.

I opened the box, when suddenly a folded frog jumped out at me. I smiled as I remembered the first frog he had given me.

An envelope fell out next. I read silently.

_Dear Teresa,_

_I am a horrible man. I should never be forgiven. I don't want you to forgive me. _

_I leave behind, a home, a chalet, four cars, a boat and seven million dollars. All of which are my daughter's and yours. My lawyers will settle the issue when I am dead. The only thing precious enough for me to give you is my wife's wedding ring and my dead daughter's first lock of hair. I have always carried them around and I need them to be safe. I trust you and hope you can keep them. You may be too mad, but don't take it out on them. _

_I would have asked you to marry me some day. But you are too innocent and good, to live with a sick man like me._

_Love your always pain the ass consultant,_

_Patrick Jane_

I tilted the bag and wedding followed by a tube with a lock of blond hair fell out. The next was a picture of him, his wife and his first daughter.

I walked to the fire place and dumped the contents in the fire and watched as the only memories of Patrick Jane died. I even burned the letter.

I walked out of the room, out of everyone's lives and I quit the CBI.

* * *

When his lawyer's called talking about the will, I told them to give it all to the remaining daughter.

I am eighty nine years old and the only thing that I remember Patrick by is a little folded frog. That's how I want to remember him by. Nothing more or less.


End file.
